Sunday, March 26, 2006
Munich
Putting aside my prejudice against the director whom I believe overrated as an artist, I went to see the film on a Sunday night when depression hangs high with the promise of a new sucky week. A bunch of Palestinian terrorists are helped over a hedge by a few drunk American sportsmen at the Oplympic games in '72. Chaos ensues. After the panicky massacre of 11 Israeli athletes watched by an entire planet, the films turns its attention to the vengeance planned by the Mossad. One agent is sent to kill one by one all or as many as possible of the people involved in this act of sensless cruelty. After this point many complain, too much violence, too long a story, what was the point? Indeed the cycle of violence theme has been brooded upon by many an artist and scholars. But there's a real sense of hopelessness that Eric Bana renders well, and that perspires through his every sexy pore. What I think makes this movie special is not necesarily the message, but the mise-en-scene. The locations of the death team are spread out across Europe. The rooms where they dwell have a certain sweetness and the way the sun falls down through the windows make the place exist. (tbc)
long time
It's getting close to a year since I started this. Not many posts. Like any other good thing, quality above quantity, people. So, well news is I am going back to the bear's lair.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
A Day in the Life
How are you my non-existent readers? Please, don't say anything about typos, cause I usually don't double check my spelling after I am done. It's exhausting enough to write it.
I missed the Oscars this year. I know, you wouldn't think much of it, but I work in the field, I worked in production, I am a fucking film publicist now, and one of the films produced by my company was nominated for best foreign feature. Won't say which one!!! Anyway, it was a total surprise for me in the morning when I found out the winners, or the "Oscar goes to-ers". Of course our film didn't win! It was nominated for so many festivals and it never took anything home. Blah. You know, Oscar used to be my weepeing night. I weeped when my favourites won, when they lost, when the presenters made mean jokes about famous people, when they had the obituary section, when people said their speeches and mentioned thier mom, dad, family, spouse, agent, whatever. I cried at everything. Fuck, what will I do when I'll be on that stage? And call me concieted, but I will be there at some point.
OK, now some notes on the show. I was pleasantly surprised at the end of the day. There was no crazy shit stuff like LOTR. I have to say I understand now why you'd reward something that was shot throughout 1000+ days, after being in fiming myself for a mere 60 days. You go crazy. Peter Jackson is worthy of praise cause he didn't start talking to the sheep and kept focus. Thank God it was not such a boring year!
I watched Crash a week ago, not expecting much from it. Unbelievable! The way the characters play upon each other, and how the balance that points to a general character direction switches dramatically from one extreme to the next is built very craftily. We are so diverse and so similar. We all have our prejudices even when we are good people. No one gets away.
I also watched Brokeback, and even though I was terrified of the sex scene, I have to say Mr. Ang Lee is one skillful bitch. The film was just right in everything. Someone in my office was very adamant he won't see such abnormalities of nature. He can't tolerate it ( funily, he's a very well intended, nice person in general). I resisted the urge to say, "hey I had two LGBT advisors in college and they never felt like freaks to me." Maybe it's just me or maybe it's my education abroad, among so many kinds of people, with so many needs and customs.
Again no closure. OK OK, I have to say this. I got published in Time Out Bucharest that just came out on the market here. Damn, sometimes I am so good.
Side note: this year is so mellow comapared to the previous one when I was so strung out and depressed that all my extra pounds decided to take a trip into the Bermuda triangle and my mind probably in Bahamas. I miss that turmoil of New York. I miss London. I miss boyfriend.
PPS: Cm'on people, cut me a book deal. I survived in New York without stripping like Mimi, I never was a fat kid so no memoir there. I've done some midly nasty shit in London. But haven't we all? Damn you all who didn't want to share your magic mushrooms or give me e's.
I missed the Oscars this year. I know, you wouldn't think much of it, but I work in the field, I worked in production, I am a fucking film publicist now, and one of the films produced by my company was nominated for best foreign feature. Won't say which one!!! Anyway, it was a total surprise for me in the morning when I found out the winners, or the "Oscar goes to-ers". Of course our film didn't win! It was nominated for so many festivals and it never took anything home. Blah. You know, Oscar used to be my weepeing night. I weeped when my favourites won, when they lost, when the presenters made mean jokes about famous people, when they had the obituary section, when people said their speeches and mentioned thier mom, dad, family, spouse, agent, whatever. I cried at everything. Fuck, what will I do when I'll be on that stage? And call me concieted, but I will be there at some point.
OK, now some notes on the show. I was pleasantly surprised at the end of the day. There was no crazy shit stuff like LOTR. I have to say I understand now why you'd reward something that was shot throughout 1000+ days, after being in fiming myself for a mere 60 days. You go crazy. Peter Jackson is worthy of praise cause he didn't start talking to the sheep and kept focus. Thank God it was not such a boring year!
I watched Crash a week ago, not expecting much from it. Unbelievable! The way the characters play upon each other, and how the balance that points to a general character direction switches dramatically from one extreme to the next is built very craftily. We are so diverse and so similar. We all have our prejudices even when we are good people. No one gets away.
I also watched Brokeback, and even though I was terrified of the sex scene, I have to say Mr. Ang Lee is one skillful bitch. The film was just right in everything. Someone in my office was very adamant he won't see such abnormalities of nature. He can't tolerate it ( funily, he's a very well intended, nice person in general). I resisted the urge to say, "hey I had two LGBT advisors in college and they never felt like freaks to me." Maybe it's just me or maybe it's my education abroad, among so many kinds of people, with so many needs and customs.
Again no closure. OK OK, I have to say this. I got published in Time Out Bucharest that just came out on the market here. Damn, sometimes I am so good.
Side note: this year is so mellow comapared to the previous one when I was so strung out and depressed that all my extra pounds decided to take a trip into the Bermuda triangle and my mind probably in Bahamas. I miss that turmoil of New York. I miss London. I miss boyfriend.
PPS: Cm'on people, cut me a book deal. I survived in New York without stripping like Mimi, I never was a fat kid so no memoir there. I've done some midly nasty shit in London. But haven't we all? Damn you all who didn't want to share your magic mushrooms or give me e's.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
I miss clubbing
Those were the days... I feel like I literally fell on the other side of the planet. What with this nonsentical permanent working state? I haven't been out to a club, a proper club, with proper dance, electronica music, maybe even a famous DJ. There's a David Morales concert tomorrow night and I am going to someone's birthday. Not like I'd have enough money to pay for the entrance or anyone to go with. Only guys seem to be fans of the genre and guys are a tricksy thing to handle when you are just interested in dancing. Right, sugarbabe?
After all, it's not the end of the world. When Van Dyke came, I had a wrap party to organize for the first movie and instead of getting completely wasted like I had planned, I had to haggle for four bottles of JD after midnight cause the producer was too wasted/cheap himself to deal with it. Damn, it sucks organizing when you gotta be the key sober factor there.
The second time, when Tiesto came, I had my goodbye production dinner for the second film. While the producer entertained us with his skanky LA/London/Bucharest stories, I just kept on staring at the steak photos in the menu. I have to admit, I hadn't enjoyed much of a regular meal during the film production. So after I had some expensive-ass wine on the production tab (yes!!!!)and my eyes were barely there, we eloped to this fashion party. But surprise, we had no idea where we were heading. I just knew the building was north and looked surrealist on the outside. We finally got the address from one person in the know and landed there. The admin came out trashed. We went in, had champagne flute after champagne flute and J didn't try chatting up anyone. The producer, however, left with an ugly American lanky blonde who he claimed between a few glasses of vodka he didn't even like. Then what's with the hand there?!! J and I left later dazed by so many bubbles and as we got to the Marriott at 3 am, I was afraid she wouldn't wake up in time for her flight. She did catch it. And so did I ten days later.
After all, it's not the end of the world. When Van Dyke came, I had a wrap party to organize for the first movie and instead of getting completely wasted like I had planned, I had to haggle for four bottles of JD after midnight cause the producer was too wasted/cheap himself to deal with it. Damn, it sucks organizing when you gotta be the key sober factor there.
The second time, when Tiesto came, I had my goodbye production dinner for the second film. While the producer entertained us with his skanky LA/London/Bucharest stories, I just kept on staring at the steak photos in the menu. I have to admit, I hadn't enjoyed much of a regular meal during the film production. So after I had some expensive-ass wine on the production tab (yes!!!!)and my eyes were barely there, we eloped to this fashion party. But surprise, we had no idea where we were heading. I just knew the building was north and looked surrealist on the outside. We finally got the address from one person in the know and landed there. The admin came out trashed. We went in, had champagne flute after champagne flute and J didn't try chatting up anyone. The producer, however, left with an ugly American lanky blonde who he claimed between a few glasses of vodka he didn't even like. Then what's with the hand there?!! J and I left later dazed by so many bubbles and as we got to the Marriott at 3 am, I was afraid she wouldn't wake up in time for her flight. She did catch it. And so did I ten days later.
Monday, February 13, 2006
press
For this new job I have to monitor the press. The thing is I never get it on time, so I read the press for today tomorrow. How am I supposed to present an accurate report if I don't have the news? And that's just the beginning of this beautiful friendship...
I really miss the film days when I used to work 12 hours - less than my set counterparts - and went out afterward with a fresher smile and a more serious desire to crash the party. When you work on a film, time doesn't really exist in any explainable terms. You feel like you sleep 4 hours a night, because, well, you sleep 4 hours a night. And when you sleep, you dream that you forgot booking someone's flight, buying more stock or just the whole set turned into a zoo in front of you. I work in the office , so the trips to the set are fairly infrequent. Whever I would turn up I suscitated interest because most of the people had no clue who I was. It is a men's world out there. They do the physical part, the moving, the fixing, the filming, the rigging, the lights. Women do the costume dressing, set dressing and make up. Oh, and they also do assistant directing, meaning they kiss performers' asses all day long. This is what I don't understand. Putting up with someone who makes your life miserable every day of the shooting week. "I lost my ipod in the trailer. Can i get a new one? was it insured?" No. "I want to fly see my girlfriend for a fashion show in Milan this weekend.Can you please talk to the producer for me?" No, honey, you've got a contract and you're shooting right before the weekend. We have to see the dailies first. "But it's really important." Yes, it was important last week too when your friend from Singapore was in London and you just had to fly back there short notice. "Can I fly Air France? I never fly anything else." Yes, I am sorry our national airlines may sound like crap but I promise they are not just flying coffins. They will take you there. And it's not in the film's budget anyway. TBC....
I really miss the film days when I used to work 12 hours - less than my set counterparts - and went out afterward with a fresher smile and a more serious desire to crash the party. When you work on a film, time doesn't really exist in any explainable terms. You feel like you sleep 4 hours a night, because, well, you sleep 4 hours a night. And when you sleep, you dream that you forgot booking someone's flight, buying more stock or just the whole set turned into a zoo in front of you. I work in the office , so the trips to the set are fairly infrequent. Whever I would turn up I suscitated interest because most of the people had no clue who I was. It is a men's world out there. They do the physical part, the moving, the fixing, the filming, the rigging, the lights. Women do the costume dressing, set dressing and make up. Oh, and they also do assistant directing, meaning they kiss performers' asses all day long. This is what I don't understand. Putting up with someone who makes your life miserable every day of the shooting week. "I lost my ipod in the trailer. Can i get a new one? was it insured?" No. "I want to fly see my girlfriend for a fashion show in Milan this weekend.Can you please talk to the producer for me?" No, honey, you've got a contract and you're shooting right before the weekend. We have to see the dailies first. "But it's really important." Yes, it was important last week too when your friend from Singapore was in London and you just had to fly back there short notice. "Can I fly Air France? I never fly anything else." Yes, I am sorry our national airlines may sound like crap but I promise they are not just flying coffins. They will take you there. And it's not in the film's budget anyway. TBC....
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
behind
I am a bit behind on writing. Job is not as exciting as it should be. Commute makes it harder to swallow. I have a few projects going out there in the ether and hope they will take a solid shape at some point.
Berlin is starting tomorrow and I'd really want to go and be there and see everything and breathe Berlinale. Famous actor is in Bucharest. Can't say his name.
Berlin is starting tomorrow and I'd really want to go and be there and see everything and breathe Berlinale. Famous actor is in Bucharest. Can't say his name.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
dreams
I was riding the metro today at 1 pm to go to the train station and get the bag of food my parents had sent me from home. It was sad, both ways there were two different sets of beggars who had signs saying " Starving. Please help." They were usually very small children accompanied by thier mother or an older sibling. They looked desperate but my suspicios, culturally formed reflex was to ask myself if they were putting on an act or really in need. I mean, it was obvious they were in need but the other question was, are they part of someone's gang who makes all of them go around and beg and give them most of the money. People gave 30 c, some chips. People do give, which is good to know. They probably still despise the beggars because most of them are gypsy, but they still lend a hand. Maybe not all is lost.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
toilets
I am a big fan of toilets. Honestly, I wish I had a camera with me each time I discovered a brilliant design in a restaurant or a hotel. Some of them are genuine pieces of art as the owners tried to make the eating/drinking experience more exciting and rewarding in general. One of the most amazing toilets I've seen was in an Indian restaurant in Soho, London. It had a mirror and smoke thing about it mixed with an Indian touch of Orientalism.
I remember the sink clearly as it was a continuous common channel, like a cow troughbut inventively stylish. The problem was with pressure. The faucets were a deranged sort of squirting wells and the woman next to me managed to soak me head to toe not once but two times while trying to wash her hand. By mere chance, she was completely unharmed. But I do remember that one toilet among the many others I have been in awe of.
Now, the work toilets are another story.
I worked in a building off Wall Street for a while and even then, when we opened the bathroom window to air out, there was a strange dude in an opposite skyscraper who happened to be staring in your direction at that exact same moment. I even heard a story in that office ( that was full of weirdos, by the way) that they saw a guy from the opposite building peeing from a very high floor on the passers by. The wonders of NYC! The next two jobs I had were for documentary film companies. One was on Upper West side and dwelled in a brownstone and its bathrooms were small and uninteresting. I always thought the tub was a bit creepy as there may have been someone behind the shower curtain that I can assuredly say was useless as no one takes baths at their office. There was a nice award for a documentary as paper support on the sink which I quite liked. The director had enough statues anyway.
The other place was somewhere in Soho and although the office was nice and charmingly laid out allowing us to talk incessantly through the day instead of doing our work, the bathrooms were outside and you needed to get a key and prop the main door so you didn't have to be buzzed in. Charming!
Ok, so I moved back to Romania after this. And here comes the episode with me stuck in the bathroom. This building I was working in was beautiful. Still is.Built in a very specific gaudiesque/surrealistic style. The toilet wasn't fancy on the inside but it was clean. They had just changed the locks that day as apparently the older ones were not working properly any more.
The janitor comes in and tells me the accountant, who I was sharing the office with during that movie, was stuck in the bathroom. And that I should come and translate her isntructions in English so she can get out. Well, long story short, the Irish lady comes out red-faced. I was like "The thing is so simple. How could you get locked in?"
Next day, I need to use the facilities. I take my phone with me as the producer doesn't care I have physiological needs when he wants to get hold of me. I get in, and I pull the lock all the way left like I never do, because generally I am paranoid I will get stuck in, like I did in a nightclub once. When I try to get out, the thing wouldn't move. I pull harder and harder. My mom, who was supposed to meet me outside to give me some food ( I am still fed by my parents when they come into town) before she went to the train station, calls me. Where are you? It's 4, I am downstairs in the reception area. Um, Mom, I am stuck in the bathroom. Can you please ask the receptionist to send the janitor up to get me out? Floor 2A. The janitor, a very impressive woman, who's the queen of the castle around that building, comes in a matter of seconds and starts telling me to push it a bit up and then right. I and do.And as embarassed as I am, I can't open it. She had to push down the door to get me out. I even became famous on the higher level because the owner of the company wouldn't believe he had to pay for another door repair in the same bathroom. But trust me, that lock was a killer!
Now I am working in a building that's from communist era. The hallway on my floor is 600 feet long, at least. I work in the middle of everything so going to HR on one end, or going to financial department on the other end is a trip in itself. What I discovered is that there are four different toilets along those hallways. One used to be for guests of the studio, but now in use for the mortals. Another one looks like has been hybernating since the 1980's and the other two are clean and normal looking by standards but they always lack toilet paper...
I still don't lock the door, even though I've been walked on by a Chinese professor when I was in college.
God, I love toilets!Other people's.
I remember the sink clearly as it was a continuous common channel, like a cow troughbut inventively stylish. The problem was with pressure. The faucets were a deranged sort of squirting wells and the woman next to me managed to soak me head to toe not once but two times while trying to wash her hand. By mere chance, she was completely unharmed. But I do remember that one toilet among the many others I have been in awe of.
Now, the work toilets are another story.
I worked in a building off Wall Street for a while and even then, when we opened the bathroom window to air out, there was a strange dude in an opposite skyscraper who happened to be staring in your direction at that exact same moment. I even heard a story in that office ( that was full of weirdos, by the way) that they saw a guy from the opposite building peeing from a very high floor on the passers by. The wonders of NYC! The next two jobs I had were for documentary film companies. One was on Upper West side and dwelled in a brownstone and its bathrooms were small and uninteresting. I always thought the tub was a bit creepy as there may have been someone behind the shower curtain that I can assuredly say was useless as no one takes baths at their office. There was a nice award for a documentary as paper support on the sink which I quite liked. The director had enough statues anyway.
The other place was somewhere in Soho and although the office was nice and charmingly laid out allowing us to talk incessantly through the day instead of doing our work, the bathrooms were outside and you needed to get a key and prop the main door so you didn't have to be buzzed in. Charming!
Ok, so I moved back to Romania after this. And here comes the episode with me stuck in the bathroom. This building I was working in was beautiful. Still is.Built in a very specific gaudiesque/surrealistic style. The toilet wasn't fancy on the inside but it was clean. They had just changed the locks that day as apparently the older ones were not working properly any more.
The janitor comes in and tells me the accountant, who I was sharing the office with during that movie, was stuck in the bathroom. And that I should come and translate her isntructions in English so she can get out. Well, long story short, the Irish lady comes out red-faced. I was like "The thing is so simple. How could you get locked in?"
Next day, I need to use the facilities. I take my phone with me as the producer doesn't care I have physiological needs when he wants to get hold of me. I get in, and I pull the lock all the way left like I never do, because generally I am paranoid I will get stuck in, like I did in a nightclub once. When I try to get out, the thing wouldn't move. I pull harder and harder. My mom, who was supposed to meet me outside to give me some food ( I am still fed by my parents when they come into town) before she went to the train station, calls me. Where are you? It's 4, I am downstairs in the reception area. Um, Mom, I am stuck in the bathroom. Can you please ask the receptionist to send the janitor up to get me out? Floor 2A. The janitor, a very impressive woman, who's the queen of the castle around that building, comes in a matter of seconds and starts telling me to push it a bit up and then right. I and do.And as embarassed as I am, I can't open it. She had to push down the door to get me out. I even became famous on the higher level because the owner of the company wouldn't believe he had to pay for another door repair in the same bathroom. But trust me, that lock was a killer!
Now I am working in a building that's from communist era. The hallway on my floor is 600 feet long, at least. I work in the middle of everything so going to HR on one end, or going to financial department on the other end is a trip in itself. What I discovered is that there are four different toilets along those hallways. One used to be for guests of the studio, but now in use for the mortals. Another one looks like has been hybernating since the 1980's and the other two are clean and normal looking by standards but they always lack toilet paper...
I still don't lock the door, even though I've been walked on by a Chinese professor when I was in college.
God, I love toilets!Other people's.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
new job
So I noticed that after coming back to my homecountry there has been a lot of interest in what I have previously done and it opened many doors for me. They all think it's great I've been educated abroad. I guess it says a lot about our education system.
So yesterday I went to an interview for a publicist job. Never done the real thing before, just had a short stint as an intern for Comedy Central. And they just clamoured for me althought I told them I have written press releases long ago and I kinda got unused to doing it. Cause you know, it gets very rusty after a while. The team was young and nice and the studios were so far away. But, although they pressed me for an answer last night during a communication presentation I agreed to go on with the lot of them, I refused to give a straight answer till today. And today they tell me I am going to interview with the biggest boss. Don't get me wrong, this is the biggest film studio here so it would be a great job to do. I am just scared as I always am before starting something I haven't done before. I am afraid of corporate, of contracts, of bindings, of promises. That's my only qualm. That and the unnervingly long commute. Wish me luck!
So yesterday I went to an interview for a publicist job. Never done the real thing before, just had a short stint as an intern for Comedy Central. And they just clamoured for me althought I told them I have written press releases long ago and I kinda got unused to doing it. Cause you know, it gets very rusty after a while. The team was young and nice and the studios were so far away. But, although they pressed me for an answer last night during a communication presentation I agreed to go on with the lot of them, I refused to give a straight answer till today. And today they tell me I am going to interview with the biggest boss. Don't get me wrong, this is the biggest film studio here so it would be a great job to do. I am just scared as I always am before starting something I haven't done before. I am afraid of corporate, of contracts, of bindings, of promises. That's my only qualm. That and the unnervingly long commute. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
So I read this blog
It was Mimi's blog from New York. It makes me curious about the end of the whole thing. I gave up and left but she's still kicking. You go girl!
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Happy New Year!
The blog's been a bit sparse since October, or better said, non-existent. I've just been busy not being busy anymore. Second movie done in November, I took off to the States to see boyfriend. Wonderful three weeks passed as fast as a nice coffee conversation with a friend would pass. Then I threw myself back into the hands of fate when I lived with my parents during the holidays. I know, the darkest time of the year. Of course they think I am too skinny and almost force-spoon fed me with all sorts of fattening Romanian Christmas things. My personal favorite is the mayo boeuf salad. But that aside, I also spent an obscenely boring New Year in the mountains with a bunch of strangers and my aunt, uncle and an equally traumatised cousin. Bless her, she was my only joy in the midst of the 12-bed room.
Alas, but I am back in the capital now looking for translations. Yeah, book translations. No one seems to want my interview with famous Danish actor, well, maybe because I only proposed it to one magazine but that's irrelevant.
Will keep posted with stories from set on next movie. Or maybe if I go out and pass out, I will share with you anyway, cause drunk with friends is as fun as humiliated by cast and crew. Wish me luck, sweeties!
Alas, but I am back in the capital now looking for translations. Yeah, book translations. No one seems to want my interview with famous Danish actor, well, maybe because I only proposed it to one magazine but that's irrelevant.
Will keep posted with stories from set on next movie. Or maybe if I go out and pass out, I will share with you anyway, cause drunk with friends is as fun as humiliated by cast and crew. Wish me luck, sweeties!
Friday, October 21, 2005
coffee
So it's 4 am on a Saturday morning and what am I doing? Right, writingfor this blog. Why? Because I am at work. You heard me right. They are shooting nights and I am stuc at the office and, ironically enough, I have to be thankful for being here and not outside where it's cold and nasty. This coffee did wonders for me. Anyway, where were we?
Last night I was at the office as well. And amongst other things, I watched " Madagascar" cause, let's face it, I cannot solve any problems that pertain to my activity - production- from the office at 2 am. Maybe I was debilitated by this week's change of schedule but I freaking enjoyed this little film for kids. Maybe all this says is that night shi(f)ts reduce my brain to the capacity of that of a pre-schooler. Moving along now. I hate entertaining this kind of thoughts.
The feature is about 4 friends from the New York zoo( Bronx???)that get thrown in the middle of the jungle in the aftermath of an attempted escape to the wild ( Connecticut) by the zebra character. So the zebra, the lion,the hippo and the hypochondriac giraffe, who was my favourite, are sent from the New York zoo, where they were some sort of stars, to Kenya, ona ship that is hijacked by the psychotic penguins from the same zoo. So they end up on the island of Madagascar, where they meet the raver, techno pumpers and, I believe, magic mushroom lovers, the lemurs and their rather useless king, Julien. The main conflict stems from the fact that Marty wants to be free but Alex, the lion, his best friend, wants to stay in the limelight and the pampered life that the zoo has to offer. In the end, Alex becomes something he's not prepared to be, that is, a carnivore.
Last night I was at the office as well. And amongst other things, I watched " Madagascar" cause, let's face it, I cannot solve any problems that pertain to my activity - production- from the office at 2 am. Maybe I was debilitated by this week's change of schedule but I freaking enjoyed this little film for kids. Maybe all this says is that night shi(f)ts reduce my brain to the capacity of that of a pre-schooler. Moving along now. I hate entertaining this kind of thoughts.
The feature is about 4 friends from the New York zoo( Bronx???)that get thrown in the middle of the jungle in the aftermath of an attempted escape to the wild ( Connecticut) by the zebra character. So the zebra, the lion,the hippo and the hypochondriac giraffe, who was my favourite, are sent from the New York zoo, where they were some sort of stars, to Kenya, ona ship that is hijacked by the psychotic penguins from the same zoo. So they end up on the island of Madagascar, where they meet the raver, techno pumpers and, I believe, magic mushroom lovers, the lemurs and their rather useless king, Julien. The main conflict stems from the fact that Marty wants to be free but Alex, the lion, his best friend, wants to stay in the limelight and the pampered life that the zoo has to offer. In the end, Alex becomes something he's not prepared to be, that is, a carnivore.
Sunday, October 09, 2005
lazy
This has not been updated in 3 months.
So guess what? Am working on a new film that I think has great potential to be released and distributed and maybe actually get some festival awards. It all depends how the editing will be as the shot footage is just amazing. It's called, um I don't think I can reveal that but it's about radioactivity and mafia. Anyway, I am working even longer hours than the previous gig and this has been the first full weekend I had off.
What do you think I did today? Went shopping. Well, did not do shopping but I looked for a bit. Enter tights/stockings store where I basically mentally acquired at least 70 % of its merchandise. Then went to see a movie and crazily enough, I enjoyed it despite a gang of morons who were talking loudly behind me and my roommate and pushing agains our chairs repeatedly.
We went to see " Wedding Crashers." Not the most emotionally fulfilling cinema piece but amusing enough to counteract the depression taking over me at this point on a Sunday afternoon. Owen Wilson was raaaaaaaaugh throughout the whole film because I fancy weird noses and blond guys. Ask my boyfriend! Putting that aside, the one-liners were catching and the wedding extravagantza just lifted up the spirits in the theatre. Since I long dreamed of being a wedding crasher for the sake of free food and entertainment, this film was positive encouragement to me.
The plot goes like that: John and Jeremy, best friends, associates, bachelors and partners in crime are expert at crashing weddings, having the sole purpose of getting laid with eager bridesmaids or sexy unmarried cousins. They don't discriminate based on religion or ethnicity and their enthusiasm convinces even the old aunt who knows everyone that they are part of the family " uncle Ned's kids." They are so charming that is very hard for the public to dislike them or even disaprove of their behavior.
The turning point comes at the biggest wedding of the season, tresurer Charney's daughter's wedding, where the two blokes meet the other rich sisters. The whack-job crazy one goes after Vaughn's character, Jeremy, and the down-to-earth chick ( Rachel McAdams) goes after Owen's and the entire wedding turns into a struggle of the two men. John is trying to get the girl and Jeremy wants to run away from Gloria who behaves like a straight-out-of-boarding school clingy woman.
Just got tired. Will continue
So guess what? Am working on a new film that I think has great potential to be released and distributed and maybe actually get some festival awards. It all depends how the editing will be as the shot footage is just amazing. It's called, um I don't think I can reveal that but it's about radioactivity and mafia. Anyway, I am working even longer hours than the previous gig and this has been the first full weekend I had off.
What do you think I did today? Went shopping. Well, did not do shopping but I looked for a bit. Enter tights/stockings store where I basically mentally acquired at least 70 % of its merchandise. Then went to see a movie and crazily enough, I enjoyed it despite a gang of morons who were talking loudly behind me and my roommate and pushing agains our chairs repeatedly.
We went to see " Wedding Crashers." Not the most emotionally fulfilling cinema piece but amusing enough to counteract the depression taking over me at this point on a Sunday afternoon. Owen Wilson was raaaaaaaaugh throughout the whole film because I fancy weird noses and blond guys. Ask my boyfriend! Putting that aside, the one-liners were catching and the wedding extravagantza just lifted up the spirits in the theatre. Since I long dreamed of being a wedding crasher for the sake of free food and entertainment, this film was positive encouragement to me.
The plot goes like that: John and Jeremy, best friends, associates, bachelors and partners in crime are expert at crashing weddings, having the sole purpose of getting laid with eager bridesmaids or sexy unmarried cousins. They don't discriminate based on religion or ethnicity and their enthusiasm convinces even the old aunt who knows everyone that they are part of the family " uncle Ned's kids." They are so charming that is very hard for the public to dislike them or even disaprove of their behavior.
The turning point comes at the biggest wedding of the season, tresurer Charney's daughter's wedding, where the two blokes meet the other rich sisters. The whack-job crazy one goes after Vaughn's character, Jeremy, and the down-to-earth chick ( Rachel McAdams) goes after Owen's and the entire wedding turns into a struggle of the two men. John is trying to get the girl and Jeremy wants to run away from Gloria who behaves like a straight-out-of-boarding school clingy woman.
Just got tired. Will continue
Saturday, July 09, 2005
when the going gets tough
I am sitting here on a Saturday afternoon to evening wondering how I ended up doing that. I am working. Actually. I am at work listening to outrageous demands from a boss that possibly still smokes pot at 59.
Let me tell you something kids. If you likes movies, don't get yourselves involved in their making no matter what. This constant rhythm of 6 days a week for 10-12 hours, lucky me I am not on the set, just spoils it, spoils all the charm. Because now, ironically enough, I don't even have time to shave my legs or cook a normal meal, or go out and buy presents, new clothes, or just something nice. Not to mention, I am barely in the mood for watching movies when I get home to my roommate who has her work stories to tell me whether I like it or not.
No summer vacation for me for the first time. No nada.
But this movie is a funny little thing. The star is making a fuss about being on the set thus the schedule changes every week and I just go insane looking through all the contracts and making sure we are not going over. God, that sounds gripping. Just reading my own words makes me want to fall asleep and have a nice dream that will distract me from life.
War of the worlds distracted me for a bit. Ok, so now you will say I was lying before. Yes, I did go see it but just because some friends from the crew invited me and they paid for it.
What is up with Spielberg and aliens? Dude, we know there are out there but really, do you have to spend so much money on this?
My advice is: be film critics not film makers. Much more entertaining and fulfilling.
Let me tell you something kids. If you likes movies, don't get yourselves involved in their making no matter what. This constant rhythm of 6 days a week for 10-12 hours, lucky me I am not on the set, just spoils it, spoils all the charm. Because now, ironically enough, I don't even have time to shave my legs or cook a normal meal, or go out and buy presents, new clothes, or just something nice. Not to mention, I am barely in the mood for watching movies when I get home to my roommate who has her work stories to tell me whether I like it or not.
No summer vacation for me for the first time. No nada.
But this movie is a funny little thing. The star is making a fuss about being on the set thus the schedule changes every week and I just go insane looking through all the contracts and making sure we are not going over. God, that sounds gripping. Just reading my own words makes me want to fall asleep and have a nice dream that will distract me from life.
War of the worlds distracted me for a bit. Ok, so now you will say I was lying before. Yes, I did go see it but just because some friends from the crew invited me and they paid for it.
What is up with Spielberg and aliens? Dude, we know there are out there but really, do you have to spend so much money on this?
My advice is: be film critics not film makers. Much more entertaining and fulfilling.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
flo
In fact it's not Flo and Mo in the pic. We had just bought a few pounds, or kilos, for the non-Anglo-Saxon people, of second-hand clothing and accessories. The result is visibly risible. My mom actually thought I had a ciggie in the hand. It's a pen, mom! Although you did find that pack of Pall Malls in my bag.
Val's headscarf is the one that cracks me up. She looks like that cartoon, the classy goose. And I just look plain "Absolutely Fabulous." What college kids do when they are done with homework! Or more like, when they are procrastinating...
Those days are gone. I am at the office 12 hours a day and I barely acknowledge the existence of life, human life forms and social activities. Bah, I will make the movie of the century in a few decades, kids. A French drama. That was always my dream. Or a British period piece. I am very Merchant Ivory when it comes down to it. And a friend once told me that I exude a Helena Bonham-Carteresque air. Can you see it? Behind the shaddy clothing and the gaping mouth, there is an aristocratic smoker.
Val's headscarf is the one that cracks me up. She looks like that cartoon, the classy goose. And I just look plain "Absolutely Fabulous." What college kids do when they are done with homework! Or more like, when they are procrastinating...
Those days are gone. I am at the office 12 hours a day and I barely acknowledge the existence of life, human life forms and social activities. Bah, I will make the movie of the century in a few decades, kids. A French drama. That was always my dream. Or a British period piece. I am very Merchant Ivory when it comes down to it. And a friend once told me that I exude a Helena Bonham-Carteresque air. Can you see it? Behind the shaddy clothing and the gaping mouth, there is an aristocratic smoker.
changes
So here it is. Change. I knew it was a good thing coming back home. More things happened here in two weeks than they have in nine months in New York.
I am working on a foreign film, for foreigners and starring a big name. Well, it used to be big during my puberty when all the action movies were in fashion. Never thought I'd be doing this, particularly since I haven't watched many of his movies. Actually there was one film they kept on broadcasting on Rai Uno ten years ago. The one with a little red haired girl being kidnapped by someone. And he gets it on with her mother, who's his bother's widow or his best friend's widow. Or maybe she was just a single mother.
Talking about saucier stuff, cause he's expired if you ask me, I saw Star Wars: the revenge of the Sith. So, Hayden turns into Darth Vader, our favourite, bronchitic villain ever to chop heads with a strong flashlight. Although the fanboys claim he cannot act his way out of a bag, I can definitely say he can act his way to my pelvis. I had a few flashes of heat while he was being bad bad bad. But now we can all understand why he was soooo bad bad bad. He had half of his limbs chopped by his friend, he had burned badly and he had killed his wife somewhere on the path to saving her from death. Ain't that upsetting? I would just probably be depressed and would eat ice cream all the time. I figure you can't eat solid food through that mask. Which reminds me of a boy who was in my screenwriting class at college and who fell off his bike on his face and had to wear a wax support in his mouth and drink his liquid meals through a straw he had stuck in a hole in the wax thingy. Scary.
Which reminds me, my friends and I used to have a "favourite" we called Darth Vader. She dressed in black coats, and did all sorts of villainy things. Where is thi spost going ? I have no clue. Like often. After 12 hours at the office who has a clue? Maybe Angela Lansbury? Or Alicia Silverstone. Nah, nevermind.
I am working on a foreign film, for foreigners and starring a big name. Well, it used to be big during my puberty when all the action movies were in fashion. Never thought I'd be doing this, particularly since I haven't watched many of his movies. Actually there was one film they kept on broadcasting on Rai Uno ten years ago. The one with a little red haired girl being kidnapped by someone. And he gets it on with her mother, who's his bother's widow or his best friend's widow. Or maybe she was just a single mother.
Talking about saucier stuff, cause he's expired if you ask me, I saw Star Wars: the revenge of the Sith. So, Hayden turns into Darth Vader, our favourite, bronchitic villain ever to chop heads with a strong flashlight. Although the fanboys claim he cannot act his way out of a bag, I can definitely say he can act his way to my pelvis. I had a few flashes of heat while he was being bad bad bad. But now we can all understand why he was soooo bad bad bad. He had half of his limbs chopped by his friend, he had burned badly and he had killed his wife somewhere on the path to saving her from death. Ain't that upsetting? I would just probably be depressed and would eat ice cream all the time. I figure you can't eat solid food through that mask. Which reminds me of a boy who was in my screenwriting class at college and who fell off his bike on his face and had to wear a wax support in his mouth and drink his liquid meals through a straw he had stuck in a hole in the wax thingy. Scary.
Which reminds me, my friends and I used to have a "favourite" we called Darth Vader. She dressed in black coats, and did all sorts of villainy things. Where is thi spost going ? I have no clue. Like often. After 12 hours at the office who has a clue? Maybe Angela Lansbury? Or Alicia Silverstone. Nah, nevermind.
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